Monster-kinktober 2. Mutual masturbation / slut shaming + Shapeshift
A/N: I took the “shapeshifter” very openly and choose a dryad bc I had the idea and it wouldn’t leave my brain (let’s pretend he turns into a tree or something), also is more degradation than slut shaming, but what can you do… (do whatever I want, to be honest). So the theme here is heavy handed. There’s my disclaimer. Enjoy!
You can read the rest of kinktober stories in this masterlist.
Domming the dom
Dryad x fem!reader || bondage, oral sex, dom/sub dynamic (femdom), (light) praise kink, tentacle sex (vines) (on monster), fluffier than expected, dirty talk, degradation
When your dryad boyfriend walks into the apartment, there’s something about the way he’s standing around, the way his eyes are a bit unfocused… You can’t exactly pinpoint what’s wrong, but you know something is off. Even the way he leans down and kisses your forehead feels weird, as if he’s far away from you even though he’s right there.
“Everything alright?” You ask him, getting up and standing right in front of him, hands around his middle in what you feel is a comforting gesture.
“Huh?” He asks back, eyes looking over your head, completely lost in thought. Weird.
“Hey, hey, look at me,” you tell him, reaching up and pulling at one of his hair vines so he’s looking down at you. His eyes feel lost, and his expression is so vulnerable and earnest… You’ve never seen him like that.
He opens his mouth but nothing comes out. In the second try he lets out a soft: “Please, please baby… I need… I need…”
Okay, you might be a bit worried now. “What do you need?” You ask, trying to hide your frantic energy. He never acts like this, he’s always so controlled and firm. Always knows what to do, how to do it. He’s never in his head like this, and it’s freaking you out a tiny bit.
He looks down at you and falls to his knees, his arms going around your middle. “I don’t know,” his voice is so frustrated that you just know how he feels.
You know exactly how it feels to be so stressed, so fucking over everything that the only thing you truly desire is to lay back and let somebody else take your mind away from your problems. You know how it feels because it’s usually your role to play in this situation, but right now your boyfriend needs you, his wooden body too rigid, too hard… He needs to relax, and you know how to make that happen.
“I know what you need, don’t worry. I gotchu,” you tell them with a soft smile and a hand running through the vines of his hair. “You just need to be a good whore for me to get out of your head, don’t you?” You ask him in a tone full of heat.
The groan that gets past his lips is downright sinful as you bite your own lip not to respond with a matching one. This is not for you, this is for your boyfriend. Your adorable and loving boyfriend who usually doms you until you are drooling and crying, begging for him to let you come. Now it’s your time to treat him like a whore, a whore that you are about to fuck until all the tension in his body dissipates.
Your dom, who is currently hugging your middle on his knees, face buried against your tummy as he breathes you in. You cradled his face in your hands, making him look up at you with his precious black eyes, framed by tiny branches as eyelashes. He’s mesmerizing in every way and form.
“Get on the bed, I’m going to make you feel better. Do you want that? You want to be my whore and do as I say?” Your voice is almost a whisper, but you can see the way his shoulders visibly relax as he gets to his feet and walks towards the room, legs a tad too open to make room for his hard as wood erection (pun totally intended).
You take a couple of minutes to gather your thoughts and think of a plan of action as you prepare some water and snacks for the aftercare, copying what he usually does for you. By the time you are entering the room, you know what you are going to do to him, and you hope it is as good as what he usually does to you.
He’s lying back, body tense, and hands clasped in front of him as he stares into nothing. He looks up when you walk in and his whole face changes, a softness that wasn’t previously there making him look more like himself for a second. He smiles at you, an intimate smile that calms some of your nerves down as you leave the aftercare kit on the night table and crawl to him on the bed, straddling his wooden legs.
“I’m gonna tie you down and then I’m going to ride your face. If you need to breathe or you want me to stop, you pinch my leg, okay?” He looks at you with unfocused eyes. “I need confirmation that you understand,” your repeat.
His eyes focus for a second, his tongue darting out to wet his cork-like lips as he nods his head. “Yes.”
“Good whore, so ready to please me, aren’t you?” You ask him, sensing how his body is trembling and adoring how some of the flowers on his hair bloom at the degrading praise.
You reach for the ropes on the nightstand, making a quick work of the knots around his wrists and twisting them around the headboard until they are secure and he looks downright fucked out already.
“Do they feel good?” You ask him, wanting reassurance, at the same time you make sure they aren’t too tight.
He nods, vines dancing around his body, some of them touching your body as if he can’t get enough of you. You do as you explained, mounting his face and lingering just out of reach. He whines, his legs twitching before you as you lean down and kiss his pretty dick just once. The groan that leaves his mouth is sinful as his hips jerk off the bed.
“Please,” he begs.
“Such a needy whore. Okay, but just because you asked so nicely,” you tell him with a hint of amusement as you lower your hips to his face.
His reaction is instantaneous. His tongue meets your clit first, sucking and kissing it until you are squirming over him, trying not to suffocate him with your weight. He groans, clearly asking more as you relent and sit back completely.
Your boyfriend starts making out with your pussy like it’s his goal in life, bringing you pleasure like a professional as he devours you completely. You are a bit ashamed to admit you are approaching orgasm way faster than you thought, riding his face like it’s a grinder as he groans and asks for more.
His vines are not helping (or more like helping too much), there’s some pinching your nipples, grabbing around your thighs and holding you closer to him. It takes you a second too long to realize how pointless it is to tie his hands if he can still use his vines to bring you pleasure, but you are too into it to complain about it as the vines caress and grope every sensitive place in your body at once.
In a desperate need to make him come too, you grab some of his vines and turn them around, wrapping them around his dick and kissing up his hips until the vines start moving in sync with your hand movements, jerking the part of it that you can’t quite reach. He’s moaning against your pussy, some of the tension in his body completely gone as you roll your hips over his face and let the vines do the work over his dick. Their movement is mesmerizing.
You are so focused on the movement of the vines over his dick that you barely realize your orgasm is there until it hits you like a tidal wave. You grab onto his hips as you scream at the top of your lungs, and he licks every drop of release out of your greedy pussy. You squeeze his dick harder, just the way he likes, and you watch in surprise how it twitches and blooms right in front of you. His come leaking down his shaft as his hips pump the air. It’s beautiful. He’s beautiful.
It takes you a few seconds to regain your breathing, dismounting his face, which is shiny with your juices. He looks fucked out and relaxes in the best way as you slowly kiss him while you untie him. He sighs happily, liking the inside of your mouth as you moan against him. You pull back and smile at his pouty lips.
When you sit down next to him, offering him some water and coaching him to drink some even when he refuses. He looks adorably rumpled and relaxed, and you are so proud of yourself for making him look like that.
“Thank you,” he whispers as you kiss his forehead one more time. You pass him the bowl of fruit you prepared, and his smile is so bright that your heart constricts.
“Anytime,” you tell him, cuddling to his side as he grabs some of the fruit, offering some pieces to you.
Just a suggestion- I'm not a NSFW creator, I don't tend to consume NSFW things and don't know too much about them, so I thought this idea would be better off in someone else's hands than mine. But I think there's a lot of potential in dryad porn. They're as diverse as plants are! Strangler vine dryad as bondage kink. Fireplay with a dryad that germinates when exposed to fire. A coffee dryad who's upset that they keep on scaring away woodland animals because coffee is poisonous to most things, and is just happy to have a human around who is immune. Certain trees change gender, so there's no reason a dryad can't. Inflation porn with plants with air sacs, like giant bladder kelp. Transformation with certain plants that cover other plants, such as kudzu, or with plant grafts. Do whatever else you want!
I don’t know why it took me so long to see this (must’ve gotten lost in the void of asks) but not only would I be down to write about this, I actually have a dryad OC! Well, she’s half dryad but the vibes are still very much there. She’s the mother of one of my Dungeons and Dragons characters. So it’s such a wild coincidence that this was sent in lol.
Your ideas are firmly planted in my mind (pun not intended). Maybe I’ll write about dryads in the future, I definitely wouldn’t mind exploring them.
(A commission piece for the lovely @kamaria-sweet-writes , featuring a female reader (Maia) and a male Dryad (Acacius) ! They are the fluffiest of lovebirds ´//꒳// ` )
In the center of a winter wonderland, you wouldn’t expect to find a green glen dappled in sunshine. Yet there it lay, just beyond a hill of snow and ice. The cold melting away to a bed of flowers. They lay wavering gently in a warm breeze. Time stilled, encapsulating a perfect summer’s day as birds twitter above you. Puffy clouds rolling lazily overhead in a blue endless sky.
A day that makes you think of sweet peach cobbler and sun tea, picking wildflowers while the sun warms your back.
A weeping willow rests in the center of this picturesque day. Limbs rocking upon the wind, leaves whispering secrets and soothing lullabies that skitter across their branches.
It was like a painting, that some artful creator had made so beautiful, it had unfurled its wings upon the waking world and wished itself to become reality.
And you with flowers in your free flowing hair, a crown of daisies and dandelions adorned your head. You know the path like the back of your hand. Winter coat long forgotten behind you, left just a couple paces from where snow meets sunshine. It lies forlornly in the field waiting for your return.
You travel down a dirt path in a light summery dress that swirls around your legs. A picnic basket tucked under your arm as the meadow kisses your ankles with tall grasses and flowers.
A sanctuary just for two.
As you get closer to the willow, the outline of a figure becomes clearer, the lines of bark etching a human shape amongst the trunk of the tree. A sweet face that seems to be dozing softly as they wait for your arrival. Acacius was a dryad, he was the being that was the protector of this meadow and kept it beautiful all year round.
He must have sensed you, as his emerald eyes open slowly. Lips up-turn, as he smiles benevolently down at you.
“Good afternoon Maia. How was your day?”
You return his smile, settling the basket down beside the tree roots. The roots of the willow arched above the ground in such a way, they carved out a spot in which you could nestle in between the roots and lean comfortably back against the tree. You busied yourself with taking out a blanket and spreading it out underneath the swaying branches. “It wasn’t too bad today. But I’m glad to be here now.”
“Oh? What happened? I would love to hear about it,”
Gentle hands reach down to braid your hair, as you tend to your basket, taking out plates and utensils, bread and jam, and homemade lemonade.
You pour a cup for him as you talk about your day, his figure slowly detaching from the willow tree to sit with you upon the blanket. Butterflies dancing amongst the canopy.
A gnarled hand on your cheek, thumb petting you gently.
“I’m glad you’re here too,” He whispers softly. “I have missed you and your stories so much,”
You lean into his touch, receiving a kiss upon your forehead.
You sit under his tree, cuddled up together and watching the clouds between the branches drift by slowly. That was Acacius’s way of being, it was in every ounce of what they did. Slow, gentle and passionate affection. He tended to his home with a steady love, and was the person you came to when you had doubts and questions. His presence eased your rushing mind, it was a quiet place for a heart to warm itself and recover from the world outside.
“I wish I didn’t have to go,” You sighed, your cheek resting against their shoulder.
“But you must dear,” He smiles at you, rubbing a slow circle against the nape of your neck. “You have to keep forging ahead, keep bringing loveliness into the world around you. There are people out there that need your light and warmth.”
“Do you really believe that?” You turn to look up at him.
“I do, but remember, the glade will always be here for you when you are feeling weary,” he promises, “Kissing your fingers and smiling shyly,”
Your visits would usually come to an end when he loses the strength to manifest being apart from his tree. He would sink back into the trunk, and become almost seamless with the bark upon the tree.
You would remain there underneath the branches, soaking up the last drops of his sunshine. It was hard to pull away, to release your grasp and let him go. To traverse back down the snowy forest path. Back home to living the normal day to day. It made your heart ache bittersweet, casting glances over your shoulder as you traveled back to your world.
The sudden chill of the winter cold was the most striking out of the rest of the year. It made you bunch up your shoulders and hurry along until you reached home. The icy hands of winter gripping you with steely frozen fingers until you slammed the door behind you. You would sit on the couch with a hot cup of cocoa in your hands, thinking about golden sunshine and wildflowers while you watched a blizzard raged outside. Counting down the hours until you would venture back out into the snow to reach your lover.
“I wish I could come with you,” He said to you, on your next visit. You were settling back down upon your blanket looking up at him.
“I love hearing your stories about the outside world. I hope one day I can see it for myself.”
You quirked a smile, “I don’t think you would like it very much,” You laughed, “It’s been very cold lately,”
His expression turned thoughtful, “Maybe,” he mused, you had barely caught the word, looking at him curiously, but he provided no answers.
“Maia dear,” He began softly clearing his throat, “There’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you. Now please, don’t be alarmed, as this is natural for dryads. The next time you visit, I may not be able to wake to greet you.”
“You’ve never had to do that before,” you started, worry coloring your voice, “Are you alright?”
“Yes,” Acacius cups your face with their hands. “Everything is okay. It’s natural and it won’t last long, only a couple of weeks. I think the cold outside is just making me a little sleepy, and I require a little more rest than usual.
You look back up the sea of wildflowers, from where you stood winter looked so far away.
Acacius smiles shyly, hesitating before tracing your lips with his thumb, resting his chin upon your forehead. “I hope you shall not be too lonely without me. Do you want me to tell you a secret?”
You look up at him inquisitively.
“I am making a little something for you. It takes time and energy to make it, but I think once I am finished, it will help solve a problem.”
“Problem?” You echoed, “What problem is that?”
They turn their head abashed, “You’ll just have to see.”
And that was the last conversation you had with Acacius. The next time you traveled through that sunny meadow, the willow was silent. A pang of fear raced through your heart, reaching up to gently caress their sleeping face. He did not stir, no emerald gaze looked down upon you, no smile played upon his lips.
You closed your eyes and took a shaky breath, your arms wrapping around the trunk of the tree as you sat down upon a raised root.
You continued to visit the willow, despite the silence. A part of you still finding a quiet kind of comfort in their companionship. Palm pressed flat against the grey-brown bark, closing your eyes as you listened to the hush of leaves. Hoping that there was some way he knew you were there.
Days had passed in the blink of an eye, and a new routine feel into place. You still told him stories, daydreams you had, or things to make him laugh. Despite the silence you continued on, speaking to him, wondering if he could hear you.
On the day you cried Acacius finally awoken, tears made your eyes burn, you had your back to the willow, the stress of him being asleep and the loneliness it brought had finally caught up to you. You felt arms curl around you, hugging you tightly as you jumped and turned around to chide him softly about being gone for so long.
“I’m sorry my Maia,” He whispers softly, “ I promise I won’t leave your side like that again.”
He turns to reach back from the spot in the trunk he had risen from, taking out a pink and succulent looking fruit. He clasps your hands around it, his hands enveloping yours.
“My papa told me that dryads tend this fruit when we love so deeply it can not be contained within us anymore. I give this to you, Maia dear, with a vow that I shall always be with you, wherever you roam. I shall be in the sunshine on your back, the wind in your heart to help you soar. I poured every ounce of my love into this creation, and I hope that you taste this love.”
You stare at the fruit in your hands, a look of hesitance on your face.
“Go on,” Acacius prompts you gently, before you nod and gently bite into it. A rush of warm and sweetness fills you, that causes tears to spring to your eyes. The core of your being overflowed with a feeling that you couldn't hold in, and it spilled out into flowing tears. You felt heard, you felt seen, and most of all, you felt a deep reservoir of love you had never felt before.
He wraps you up and peppers your face with kisses as you cry.
“Please don’t cry Maia,” His voice trembles, rocking you gently and lovingly, “I wanted to have something special to give you, just like you have given me. Everytime you visit, I couldn’t have asked for a better companion. I am sorry I had to be away for so long. But I could hear you when you visited me.”
You could still feel warmth encircling your heart as you left for home that day. The cold no longer nipping at your heels as you trekked back through the winter forest.
A bag of potting soil and a clay pot beside your window at home. Acacius told you to keep the seed of the fruit he had given you and plant it. He said a piece of his core was contained in that seed, and if planted, he would be able to accompany you anywhere.
♡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡♡
Enjoy what I write? I have a tip jar!ヽ(*ᵔ▿ᵔ)ﾉ
I create both art and writing if you are interested in a commission! ♡
Ey requests are back-! Uh, think I could have some Dryad X Reader first meeting, from long before Paletteville came to be?(I have this idea where Dryad is, at least centuries upon centuries older than she looks in Sparks Of Hope, with that maiden design I made to boot)
Hi! I have to admit I improvised a bit but I do hope this is good enough.
Also,I chose for the header the in-game one because I dunno if I had the permission to use your incredible one.
MILESTONE SPECIAL:
READER MEETS THE DRYAD
You swore to your life that what you were saying was true. You saw the Dryad in the woods but no one believed you.
The Dryad was just a fairytale to cheer up to cheer kids up when the winter was around ;or so the townfolks repeated to you.
The tale said that it was thanks to her if the spring was able to come back and then bring the warmth of the summer.
But those were lies;you saw her,you were sure.
-They say you don't exist...- You planted a seed in the woods one day;it was your special place. Planting a seed was something that the Dryad would have appreciated - That I'm a liar and so on- You sighed, looking at the dirt on your hands.
You were about to leave when you heard a voice echoing all around you -You shouldn't listen to them-
A little plant came out from the earth.
-Huh?!-
-What you say is true. The Dryad does exist- An elegant figure appeared from behind an old tree -You planted a seed. I am pleased-
She smiled at you. -You must have a good heart-
You stood still, speechless.
-Don't be afraid. You know what the tale says no? I can't hurt a soul, only make them flourish- She giggled -Come,I would love to show you my plants-
She began following a path -Why- You stopped her -Why are you so friendly with me?-
-Mh...just a hunch;but I feel our meeting will lead this planet to grow-
You've always heard it, a soft whispery voice creeping out to you from the rustling branches. It's more chatty in the spring and summer, a little grumpy in the fall, and quiet in the winter.
But it is always there.
And it always talks.
You learned early on to never mention it to others. When you were just a little thing, it was brushed away as a fantasy, perhaps an imaginary friend. But as you got older you quickly realized that it was bothering your parents...so you stopped bringing it up.
The tree became your secret.
It was your only friend, your secret keeper and one comfort throughout your life. You spent hours upon hours at your window, playing with waving branches and whispering to them. Sometimes you camped out beneath it, looking out at the stars through the green leaves.
Time went on.
You left but you always came back, for your parents of course...but also for your dear friend. Just like before, you would spend hours at your window.
You grew older and so did your mother and father. In time, each of them passed away and the property fell into your hands.
And then the pandemic began.
When things took a downhill spiral, you made a choice to return to your childhood home and to your one true friend. Spring was bringing the whole world to life. Branches on your tree were beginning to bud, little birds msking nests and squirrels prancing amoung the growing leaves.
The tree came alive at your touch.
Smooth hands ran along rough bark and at once, a wind began to sing. The voice carried upon it was heard by no ears but your own.
"Y/N..."
Every day and every night you spoke to your tree. They listened to you, comforted you, sang to you. They whispered a promise in your ear over and over, until one chilly spring night...
The wind was wild.
Screaming, shrieking like a wild creature!
Creaking and thumping resounded through the night, slowly becoming louder and louder...until it was gone.
It was silent.
With your eyes closed tightly, little noises began to echo around you.
Footsteps along the roof...
The window sliding open...
Creaking floorboards...
And a soft voice whispering in your ear once more...
"Y/N~"
You opened your eyes. Above you stood a creature made of wood and light, with rough bark for a body and leaves for hair and golden eyes shining brightly. A hand caressed your cheek softly and you smiled brightly.
Can I make a request, please? You find yourself sick, something mild, but it causes some skin issues(like a rash/light splotches), your partner is a stunning ethereal being who you worry will be repulsed by your appearance. Showing up unannounced they discover you, quite upset at their arrival, tending to yourself. Instead of being repulsed, fury ensues! Running you a bath with herbs, soothing tea and salves from their homeland; your health matters more than anything to them, damnit!!
A/n: this is super sweet request, thank you so much for this. ADORABLE! 💕
-x-
Most of the time you can hide it under clothes, the crawling red of psoriasis. That you’ve had it all your life, and it’s always one more reason not to let anyone get close. That fear creeps in, the worry that no one would ever want to touch you after. How could anyone love you, and so you wear layers. You cover up, and you default to humor, you try so hard to be what someone might need.
You tell yourself if you can help them, that’s enough. Only in the winters it gets worse, it flares, and burns, and your skin itches. How you didn’t think about it for once, when your summer, your fall had brought you the most beautiful thing you’d ever seen. Elvish in nature, but you’d wager something elemental in them too. The way they walk, talk, breathe- how everything is full of a kind of grace you can’t quite imagine being real.
That they laugh at your jokes, gently touch at the bend of your arm. How their fingers could sense right through the fabric if you only willed it hard enough. You can’t believe they see anything in you, it’s almost enough to repress the rotting self hatred of your own body. Such a weight to put on another, and you tell yourself to do better.
Only winter comes, and the red crawls up your throat. Turns your cheeks to scaling flakes, and your eyes are red from the swell of tears you can’t swallow down. How anything so lovely could see you like this and stay..
So you avoid them. You hide. You withdraw, their calls go unanswered. You built out of your home a kind of fortress while snow fills heavy on the world outside. How when you look through your window you can only wish to be as pure, as brilliant as it shimmering under the sun. Only that’s when there’s the knock at the door, and their voice just beyond. Even through the walls it’s the most beautiful sound you’ve ever heard.
“You know if you’re going to dump me, the least you could do is say it to my face.”
Bewilderment is what sends you scrambling to open the door before thinking better of it. The cold gusts in, and with it the way they bring the heat of summer stepping inwards. “Oh-“ it’s what they get out first, and your hands raise towards your face, words mumbling out between your fingers. “It’s not /you/ idiot it’s me.” How your frame starts to shake, and the words catch. Silence following, until their hands large, and smooth, and softer than they have any right to be peel your fingers free of your face.
“What the hell are you talking about?” What you don’t expect is the touch of anger to their voice, pitch lowering into almost a growl. How their skin seems to shimmer with a sort of heat you haven’t seen before. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner? You’ve just been here, all alone? Because what you didn’t think I’d find you pretty?” It’s all you can do to nod, even while their fingers close around your wrist to pull you towards the bathroom.
“And I’m the idiot.” They click their tongue, and you can see the sharp gleam of fangs, their hair reminds you of feathers maybe, plumage a deep sort of red. The bath waters running before you can make heads or tales of it, steam circling up slow, and steady towards the ceiling. “Let me Help.” They whisper, hands moving towards the hem of your shirt. How you grab for them, holding it off, fear strangles your throat. They wait, patient, and steady as anything, until by slow degree you release. Draw your arms up, while they pull the fabric free, shifting forward to press fluttering kisses to each mark. Where it aches, where no one touches you, but they do.
Each inch, methodical as they go, proving in silence and action that they want to. By the time they ease you into the water your skins buzzing entirely different than it ever has before. They vanish for only a moment, before working some sort of herbs into the heat of the water. It smells of lavender, and something brighter, almost peppermint but not. Their fingers skim at your knees, draw at your stomach beneath the water. Their kisses land at your shoulders as they move behind you, soaking the sleeves of their shirt as they lean in.
“Beautiful.” They day it once, clear as anything at the base of your neck. Brushing your hair over your shoulder, “The most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” How tears fall slow down your face, and your hand raises back to entwine into their own.
“That’s it, love, easy now. Breathe.”
And you do, slowly, carefully, and with each breath you move one further away from before.
Summary: Who could have guessed that going to visit the botanical garden would end with you tied to a tree and fucked by a dryad? Not that you are complaining either way...
Dryad x fem!reader || public sex, exhibitionism, tentacles (vines), bondage, hate sex (kinda?)
You hated him.
You hated the damn dryad with all your might.
He was such an asshole. Always smiling at everyone, always making silly remarks to make everyone laugh. Well, he was not funny! (Maybe only a little.) Everyone liked him and all creatures chose him for the gardens tour. Even though you had a better plan of action and better plant facts! But nobody cared about that when he had a big toothy smile, green hair plagued with purple flowers and vines that he used to “make flowers appear” every time he saw a pretty creature. Ugh, you hated him.
He was insufferable and was taking all your clients. And on top of that, he enjoyed reminding you of that fact every chance he got.
“You need to relax, dude. You are always so uptight and serious. People don’t go with your tour because it looks like you want to kill them.” He says the second he waltzed into the break room.
“I do not look like I want to kill people!” You instantly reply, cringing the second the words are out of your mouth.
...
Keep reading this and so much more on my Patreon (more info here)
Exclusive stories aviable in tiers "Monster lover" (6$/month) and "Monster fucker" (10$/month). To know more about what other rewards being a patreon includes, check the whole info here.
